Two Minutes of Consideration
by Zetta
Summary: James gets a couple of owls one morning during seventh year. Sort of short prequel to my fic "Winding Path". Complete! Pre-OotP!


Two Minutes of Consideration

Disclaimer: Not mine.  
Summary: A sort-of prequel to my fic "Winding Paths" (; James gets a few interesting letters one day during seventh year.   
Rating: G (I'm so ashamed!!)  
Characters: Mostly James Potter, a little of the rest of the Marauders, and a little of Lily and Sybil, and a bit of Dumbledore. (Again, see my other story for details on *that* relationship*). 

The owl didn't look special. Contrary to rumor, it wasn't colored the team colors, and it did not ride a broom.

It flew like a normal owl, arriving with all of the rest of them and landing on the table in front of him along with his mother's owl and another.

James barely glanced at it when it landed, far too busy sorting through the bits of paper for the post-breakfast Prefect meeting that would start in about twenty minutes. 

He finally finished up with his business and collected the letters. All three of the owls nipped at his hands because he'd taken so long to see to them.

Irritated, he shooed them off without giving them any treats and then flipped over the envelopes to see who they were from.

The first was his mothers, the second was sealed with a plain black seal with an "M", and the third bore a familiar looking seal of navy blue and gold... It made his heart stop for a moment, and he nearly dropped the letters.

He glanced up the table, towards his friends, feeling weak, and wishing that one of them were there to tell him to calm down and open the damn thing. His hands were shaking already, and he couldn't remember ever being so nervous about something before. He swallowed. He was *not* going to open That Letter until he had calmed down. He purposefully set it down on the table in front of him and opened then letter from his mother, forcing himself to read every word. His eyes kept sliding off the page and landing on the seal on the envelope with the blue and gold seal...

He folded the letter from his mother and looked at the plain envelope, then at the one with the seal with the crossed bulrushes. Purposely, he picked up the blank one and opened it, though he still kept looking at the other unopened one.

He stuffed the letter from his mother into his pocket and glanced behind him again, towards his friends first, and then towards the staff table.

No one seemed to have noticed. Even the ever-observant Dumbledore was thoroughly engrossed in a conversation with Professor McGonagall, and was unaware of the drama that was occurring right before them.

He forced himself to unfold the black sealed letter and tried to read it.

Perhaps he wouldn't have been so successful, but he happened to notice one line...

_The Montrose Magpies are very interested in meeting with you, Mr. Potter, and we hope that you will consider our invitation and join us for a weekend game of your choice._

He sat down on the bench and took off his glasses, cleaning them.

"Are you all right?" a soft voice asked.

He looked up, startled, and put his glasses on his face. Lily Evans, the Head Girl, was looking at him with a concerned frown on her face.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, and she slowly, tentatively sat next to him. "Is there anything I can help with?" she asked uncertainly.

"Read this," he managed to say, and handed her the letter which he'd just opened.

Giving him a worried look, she slowly took the letter from him. "'Dear Mr. Potter. The Montrose Magpies would like to offer you a position at the Magpie Try-Outs over this summer. We have been watching your progress on the Quidditch Pitch for six years now, and are quite impressed with your natural talent and learned skill.'" She stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. "The Quidditch team? Truly?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I mean, I think so. I mean, the Magpies!" He took off his glasses and cleaned them again, his hands still shaking.

Lily looked down at the letter again. "'Practice begins on June fifteenth, we will arrange transportation, please reply immediately. The Montrose Magpies are very interested in meeting with you, Mr. Potter, and we hope that you will consider our invitation and join us for a weekend game of your choice. Yours, Danny Whitecliff, President.'"

James set his glasses on the table and rubbed his eyes. "Montrose. Really?"

She set the letter down on the table. "Congratulations," she said, smiling.

He stared at her, not really seeing her. He reached for his glasses, then felt the other letter on the table.

Abruptly reminded of it, he grabbed it, and his hands shook as he slowly worked to break the gold seal. He was grateful he was already sitting down- he had a feeling it would be humiliating to fall over in a faint in front of the entire school, no matter how good the news was.

He slowly unfolded the letter, but he froze for a long moment after that, just staring at the thick parchment that had been placed inside.

He gathered all of his courage then and forced himself to read it.

_Mr. James W. Potter_ (it said in blue ink.)

_I write to you on behalf of Puddlemere United's Quidditch Club._

_This past season, one of our scouts has been in attendance at each of your games. We are quite impressed with your skills, and are quite interested in speaking with you about the possibility of your joining our team. You seem to have the necessary skills of a professional, and also, the attitude of one, according to reports from your Headmaster and Head of House._

_Currently, we look to have you as a Chaser, presuming you are interested._

_Practice would begin almost immediately upon the end of your term, as the first scrimmage is in early August._

_We have included four tickets to our next match against the Chudley Cannons- your professor informed us that you could have permission to come see a match, even if it is during the school year. Arrangements for you and three others to come have been made between myself and Professor Dumbledore._

_We await your owl anxiously._

_Sincerely,  
M. Smith, Manager of Puddlemere United._

James stared at it, then read it again.

Then again.

"James?" Lily asked.

He looked up and stared at her again, and she looked very uncomfortable. He looked down at the two letters in his hands.

Then he leaned over and kissed her, then jumped up, knocking over a pitcher of pumpkin juice, and ran down the table, ignoring the startled looks people gave him, and the cry of protest Lily had given.

Sirius, Peter, and Remus were all giving him odd looks, having witnessed his abnormal display of excitement.

"Ya catch yer pants on fire?" Sirius asked with a wide grin as James hurried up to them. 

James felt giddy. "To hell with that, Sirius, I got a letter from Puddlemere _and_ Montrose!"

Those near enough to hear him gasped loudly and turned. "The Quidditch teams?" Peter squeaked, his eyes nearly flying out of his head.

Sirius snatched it from his hands, half standing as he read it out loud. "Mr. J. Potter, I write to you on behalf... Holy hell! This _is_ it! Prongs, this is _real_!"

"Let me see!" Peter said, reaching for the Montrose letter.

James handed it to him as Sirius turned to look at him again. "Did you write back yet? Which one are you going with? Hell, Remus, get him something to write back with! And a quill! Damn it! All the owls left. Quick, write a response and we can run up and drop it off. Hurry!"

"I haven't got anything," Remus said, trying to read over Peter's shoulder, the Puddlemere letter in his hand.

"Then give that back and write on that!"

James shook his head to try and get some sense back, and grabbed a copy of the Daily Prophet from the table and flipped it over as he began looking for a space large enough that he could write in. "I can reply on this..." His hands were shaking still, and he hoped Sirius wouldn't notice. The last thing he wanted was to get made fun of over something like _this_...

Puddlemere _and_ Montrose... Oh Merlin.

James flipped the paper to the front page with the intention of ripping it out and replying to Puddlemere in the margins of it.

Instead, he felt the world crash down around him, reality sinking in with the brutality of a punch to the gut.

_"Four Die in Another Attack!"  
By N. E. Cole_

_Four Muggle-borns were found dead in their home last night at twelve o'clock. It was an attack by the feared You-Know-Who, and neighbors in the Muggle-born populated area fear for their safety. _

_Department of Defense Representative Daxius Potter offered no further information on the attack, stating simply that it was being looked into._

_It seems to be the required response these days, as it was said about three other murders in the past week. His answer when another reporter inquired as to the whereabouts of the Aurors when the attack was occurring was disturbing: "There are not enough Aurors to watch over everywhere. We try very hard, but in situations such as the one last night, there was no chance for them to get there in time."_

_Grim news for a wizarding world that is in desperate need of that line of defense. The family was unavailable for comment._

James slowly set the paper down, and knew without another second's thought that he would never play professional Quidditch.

Sirius had yet to realize the significance of the newspaper, and was still rummaging for a quill, shouting out random obscenities when he couldn't find one.

James slowly sat down next to him and glanced up at the Head Table. Dumbledore was watching him now, and looked rather concerned.

James looked away, down at the newspaper again.

Sirius made a triumphant noise and snatched the Puddlemere letter back from Remus and Peter and turned it over to begin writing on it.

"Dear Mr. Smith," he said gleefully. "Thank you for the tickets and for showing interest in me. I am very interested in becoming a member of your team."

"Padfoot," James said quietly.

"I look forward to seeing the match-"

"Padfoot."

"-this weekend, and would like to inquire as to how difficult it would be to get autographs for my three friends and I."

"Sirius, I'm not accepting."

_That_ got Sirius's attention. His mouth dropped open and he stared at James, horrified. "What do you mean, you're not accepting? You _have_ to! You've been obsessed with being on a team since you were taller than I was!" Quite a long time ago, that was. Sirius had hit his first growth spurt at the age of one, and had had at least an inch on James every day since.

Remus did not look surprised, though he looked grim. Peter looked just as stunned as Sirius had, his mouth wide open.

James couldn't make himself look at the letters or the paper any longer and closed his eyes, letting his forehead rest on the table. "Damn," he whispered. What a mess.

Sirius was right. Since he'd been born, his father had been helping him ride a broom. He'd been able to ride alone before he could even walk right, and had been on a kiddy-Quidditch league before his fifth birthday had passed. He'd saved up his allowance for months so that he could afford to buy the new Comet when it had come out earlier in the year, and ...

For about two minutes, he'd allowed himself to pretend it was worth considering, that he might actually be able to dedicate his life to playing Quidditch.

Now he knew it didn't matter.

He would never be able to go about and play a game when the world was facing such a miserable state, when a madman was out there, killing people because he didn't like their parents, or because he didn't agree with their politics. No matter how much he wanted to play Quidditch, his parents had raised him to do the Right thing- no matter how absolutely awful it was to do it. He looked up again at his friends. "It wouldn't be right," he said finally. "I want to... but I couldn't."

Sirius looked as though he might cry. He looked at the letter, then at James again. 

James stared at the letter. "I..." he trailed off and sighed.

Sirius grabbed his arm before James could move. "Will you at least think about it?"

James took the parchments from Sirius and Peter, both of whom were watching in dismay. "I can't think about it," he murmured. "Because I can't do it." He pointed his wand at the scrawling Sirius had attempted and erased them, then took up the quill again.

_Mr. Smith;_

_Thank you for your offer to try out for the team. While Quidditch is something that is very important to me, I find that at this time, I am unable to even consider joining a team. I am currently enrolled to attend the Auror School upon graduation at the end of this year._

_While I would certainly have loved to have tried out, I cannot do so at this time._

_With much thanks for your consideration,  
J. Potter_

He wrote a similar letter to the Magpie president, having to drag his hand to make each letter, so awful was the prospect of declining.

Sirius moaned softly. "Jim, do you have any idea what you're doing?"

James studied the letters and then put them into his pocket. "Truly, Sirius," he said tiredly. "I don't think I do anymore."

*&*&*&*&*

"I'm sorry for kissing you like that," he muttered to Lily a while later, as most of the rest of the hall was getting up to leave. "I just got a little excited. I might have kisses Snape if he'd been over here."

Lily looked up from her breakfast, and her friend- was it Sybil something?- scowled at him. "It's okay," Lily said with a quick grin. "Just don't let it happen again." Then she frowned. "What's wrong? I'd have thought you would be jumping off of the tables, and doing cartwheels and such."

"He's not accepting," Lily's dark haired friend said matter-of-factly. "He's seen the paper and realized that not everything is about some stupid sports game."

Lily glanced at Sybil, then at James, and her eyes widened with surprise. "Really?" she asked tentatively.

James gave the dark haired girl a wary look. "Something like that anyway," he murmured. Or exactly like that, he thought with a frown, wondering how the other girl had known.

Perhaps sensing he didn't feel like talking about it, Lily nodded slightly and went back to conversing with Sybil. James sat down at the end of the bench and watched as the rest of the prefects slowly gathered.

"Good morning," Albus Dumbledore said as he approached from the head table. Behind him, the Heads of Houses followed.

James managed a nod in their direction. He was too preoccupied to managed much more.

He barely paid any attention during the meeting, allowing Lily to run the show. She seemed to understand and accepted the duties with ease, though he normally did the speaking part.

At the end of the meeting, she had to nudge him to get him to pay attention and realize that the rest of the students were leaving.

He'd daydreamed about Quidditch for an hour long meeting, and had unfortunately had to dismiss the idea of playing professionally *and* being an Auror.

He waved half-heartedly to Lily as she left, and slowly gathered his stuff, lingering for reasons he couldn't quite name.

It made sense when he found that Dumbledore had joined him at the end of the Gryffindor table. "You look rather upset, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore observed.

James averted his eyes for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. "Growing up really stinks."

Dumbledore's face crinkled a little as he smiled, but he nodded slightly. "I do not traditionally care to offer unasked for advice, but in this case, I feel that I must. You must do what you think is right for you. What you want is what is important, not what you think is expected of you- no one, your parents included, wants any more from you than for you to be happy. Your father would be quite pleased whether you join the Quidditch team or not." James gave him a startled look. Dumbledore smiled. "I'm well aware of the decision that lies before you. Mr. Moody is a dear friend of mine, and so I know of your interest in the Auror program. The two Quidditch programs have written to me to ask permission to excuse you for a weekend." He shrugged. "If you become an Auror, you may protect people, perhaps even at the cost of your own life. As a Quidditch player, you would be given the task of distraction, entertaining those in the world who look for an escape from the realities of these dark times. Do as you think you should, and let no one tell you what to do. Including Mr. Black," he added with a twinkle in his eye.

"What I believe is right is that I become an Auror," James said quietly. "What I want? I... well, that's where it gets tricky."

Dumbledore nodded, appropriately solemn. "Whatever decision you make, it shall be the right one, Mr. Potter. I cannot counsel you as to which to choose. It is your decision to make."

James nodded slightly. "I know. Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore nodded back at him and went off to do whatever it was that Headmasters did. James sighed and grabbed his books, slowly leaving for the classroom he was over due in.

This was written as a back story to my longer story, "Winding Path" (; It's not going to get any longer, and if you're that curious about what choice he makes (you shouldn't be wondering, I think it's pretty clear, though not stated outright), read "Winding Path" and all will be revealed, grasshopper.

Comments are welcome, good or bad. :o)

Daxius Potter is all mine, as are the two Quidditch managers/presidents, though the teams are all Rowling's.


End file.
